


Untamed Journey

by Jetainia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Howl's Moving Castle inspired, Restaurant to Another World inspired, The Untamed inspired, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetainia/pseuds/Jetainia
Summary: The roaming Hogwarts saloon is a place of happiness and laughter—and some healthy competition.
Relationships: Godric Gryffindor & Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff/Salazar Slytherin
Kudos: 11





	Untamed Journey

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea what kind of AU this piece falls into, I just know that it falls into the broad AU category. I had a prompt of Western and my brain ran with that to Howl's Moving Castle, to Restaurant to Another World, to The Untamed, and also to Lindsey Stirling's Roundtable Rival video. All of which were mashed together to create this thing.

The saloon held an aura of calm as the sounds of a broom sweeping over the wooden floor and the clinking of dishes as they were washed, dried, and put away wove through the building. Soft humming melded with the ambient sounds; two voices moved through an unknown song in perfect harmony. Outside, the wind blew across a grassy landscape with no civilisation in sight. 

Business was over for the night and the two proprietors of Hogwarts were preparing to move on. First, to clean the mess that inevitably appeared when a large group of humans gathered to eat good food and drink to their heart’s content. Secondly, they had to secure all loose items to ensure they wouldn’t be thrown about during the move. Everything within the saloon had a securing rune that held it tight to whatever surface it was on when activated—one too many broken chairs and pieces of crockery had led to this method being implemented.

Finally, the spell for movement had to be powered and a new location decided upon and moved to. In the dead of night, not a soul saw the walking wooden building move from a spot in the middle of a plain to settle near a lake popular with the local wildlife. As the building walked, two people stood on the second-level porch holding hands and watching the landscape slowly go by. Occasionally the unknown notes of their melody would drift over the plain to vanish into the wind, unheard by another human. 

In the morning, where once stood a building, only packed earth remained and a lake in the middle of nowhere had a lake house where it had not had one previously. The inhabitants spent most of the morning sleeping, regaining the energy spent from hard work and spell casting. When the sun was almost at the halfway point in the sky, the front door opened and a woman with dark skin and dusty-yellow skirts stepped out. 

With a satisfied nod at the lake, she gestured with her hand and all the windows flew open while the chairs inside detached themselves from their respective tables. She sat down on one of the two rocking chairs on the veranda and rocked gently as she gazed out at the water. A few minutes later, a bowl was placed on the table next to her and the man responsible grinned at her.

“Breakfast is served, my lady Helga.”

She snorted. “Why thank you, my dear Lord Salazar. There are none who can produce porridge as divine as you can.”

Salazar chuckled and gave the best impression of a bow he could sitting down. Though it was said in jest, Helga knew that Salazar was proud of his cooking and she certainly thought he should be—she truly hadn’t tasted porridge that was better than Salazar’s own. 

“So, to work then?” Salazar asked after they had finished their porridge and sat quietly for a few minutes longer. 

Helga nodded and got up. “To work.”

They headed inside, selected a rune by the now-closed door, and then stepped out again. Gone was the lake and silent landscape. Instead, there was a bustling town with people going to and fro, collecting their necessary items or merely browsing what was on offer. Helga gave Salazar a mock-salute and they parted ways—each with their own list of needed items for the service ahead and their own daily lives. 

* * *

The saloon was packed. Patrons from all over the world ate, drank, laughed, and danced as they enjoyed the night. Salazar was busy in the kitchen creating marvellous dishes with the help of Aurora—a blind basilisk the pair had come across during a move and adopted into the family—while Helga bounced around the main room alternating between playing the fiddle and dropping off courses to various tables. It was an organised chaotic mess and just the kind of environment both Helga and Salazar thrived on.

Above the entrance, the rune for Edinburgh glowed and a barrel-chested red-haired man stepped through. He glanced around the room and gave a great, booming laugh. “Ha! Found you again!” Spotting Helga he added, “You need to work on making these doors of yours harder to find, Badger!”

Helga swept past him, directing a flagon of beer into his hand as she played the tune composed with Godric in mind. “It’s not meant to be hard to find, oh great Lion of Scotland,” she called back as she continued moving. 

An inelegant snort caught Godric’s attention and he scowled when he saw the source. The brown-skinned woman with flyaway hair tipped her flagon in his direction mockingly and proceeded to chug half of it. He slumped down on a chair opposite her. 

“You’re late,” she said, wiping her mouth to get rid of excess foam.

His scowl grew deeper and she laughed, patting his shoulder sympathetically. He considered shrugging her off but decided against it, instead grumbling, “Shut up, Rowena.”

“But how will you ever catch up to me if I don’t let you know how slow you’re going?”

“Now, now, children,” Helga said as she came by to drop off two plates of steaming food. “You both made it here in the end, and all in one piece too.”

Rowena gave Godric a sly look and said, “Maybe you should make your doors easier to find, Helga, so Godric doesn’t have to spend so much time searching.”

“You—” Godric stopped himself, as he so often had to when around Rowena—who just laughed at his silent outrage. “I have a request, Badger,” he said after a few moments.

Helga grinned. “What can this humble fiddler play for you?”

“A jig,” he said. “Something to get the blood moving.”

“But of course!” 

As she danced away, the tune she played changed from light accompaniment to an energetic jig and Godric smirked at Rowena. She raised an eyebrow back at him and then let out a yelp as he grabbed her by the hand and hauled her out onto the dance floor.

“Loser buys the drinks?” Rowena checked.

Godric nodded. “I hope you brought plenty of money with you this time.”

Rowena scowled at the reminder of the one time she had forgotten to bring money and Godric had ended up paying for her meal. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” She sighed at Godric’s wide grin and then gave him a grin of her own. “You better be prepared to pay for me again, because I’ve already beaten you once today and I don’t plan on breaking that streak.”

In the end, neither of them paid for their drinks. The other patrons were so impressed with the duo’s dancing that they all pitched in to buy their drinks. Godric and Rowena were happy enough to accept this as an outcome—though later found their way outside, drinks in hand and slightly drunk, arguing about who the real winner had been while splashing their feet in the lake. 

That night, the usually serene moon-lit darkness was shattered by joyful noises and warm light spilling over the landscape, as it would be until Helga and Salazar decided to move once more. As the moon started its descent to the horizon, patrons drifted out, different runes flashing as each person passed through the door, returning them to where they had come from.

Salazar closed the kitchen and started rounding up the patrons who had wandered outside while Helga played quiet, calm, songs to bring the night to an end. 

“Look at you two,” Salazar said when he came across Rowena and Godric lying together and gazing up at the stars, “someone might even think you were friends.”

They both scoffed at the idea and glared at the other for having the audacity to be in sync. Rowena hauled herself up first and started making her way back to the saloon and the doorway that would take her home. “I’ll be waiting when you arrive next, Gryffindor,” she called over her shoulder, giving a vague wave as she walked.

Godric watched her go, not quite wanting to get up yet. “Not if I’m waiting for you, Ravenclaw!”

He heard her soft snort and grinned to himself. Glancing up at Salazar who was still standing next to him, he said, “Don’t suppose I could convince you to close her door until I come through mine?”

Salazar smiled wryly, “And ruin the surprise of which one of you comes first? Why would I deprive myself of such a thing? Feel free to ask Helga.”

Godric shook his head quickly, “I’m good. I have no desire for her fiddle to be turned against me.”

“Wise decision, now go home so we can finish closing up. Helga looks rather impatient.”

Salazar smirked as Godric scrambled up and made his way hurriedly—though assuredly  _ not _ running—up to the saloon where Helga was standing on the veranda and waiting (patiently). She smiled as Godric moved past her to the door and shook her head at his slightly terrified expression. 

“You’re cruel to them,” she said to Salazar as he came up behind and wrapped his arms around her.

He hummed softly. “They love it,” he said. “I add the spice to their life that they would otherwise be missing.”

“You do that with your cooking,” Helga returned. “What’s your latest creation again? The Firebringer, only for the most daring of appetites?”

“There’s more than one way to soothe an adventurous spirit,” Salazar sniffed in mock-indignation. 

Helga turned around in his arms and kissed him on the cheek. “Indeed there is, but I rather like ours the best.”


End file.
